


Two Late

by RizGriz



Series: Fight For Your Future [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Diego loves his family, Diego runs away, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Pre-Canon, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Running Away, Shock, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, Training, Underage Drug Use, Youth Shelters, competent parental figure, grace loves her children, how diego came to live at the gym, oatmeal without sugar, reggie is a fuckwad, supportive adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RizGriz/pseuds/RizGriz
Summary: Father was going to kill them each, one by one, until the Umbrella Academy crumbled beneath him. Diego makes a decision. He decides he is not going to die. He is going to live.But he's got to make it through his first night before the living can start. An older man, Al, kinda looks like an angel right now.;Diego runs away in a fit of desperation but doesn't know what to do. A kind stranger happens to know a woman at a local youth shelter.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Grace Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & The Hargreeves
Series: Fight For Your Future [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775503
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125





	Two Late

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Diego before but it's also a younger version of him than we really ever get to see in the show. Let me know if there are any ways to improve!
> 
> Also, if you're from my Stranger Things fic I do plan on getting another chapter out soon, but these plot bunnies have been holding me hostage for far too long

He is seventeen and alone sitting on the side of the road. Cars passed by with no thought to the kid with a damp hoodie and a fresh scar on his face. Diego sat crouched, leaning against a flickering street light, the bells on the corner store door chiming every so often as people meandered past his personal crisis. He couldn’t stay at home anymore. It would kill him. It already killed Five. And now Ben? As far as Diego was concerned Ben was the one who deserved to get out most.

“Hey kid, you okay?” someone tapped Diego’s shoulder. Instinct coiled in his stomach and Diego shot up, backing away from the stranger. He took one step too many and his foot slipped off the curb sending him reeling back into traffic. The stranger lunged to grab Diego’s arm. His body went into fight mode but the stranger pulled him to the ground too fast for him to counter attack. “‘m sorry I scared you, kid!”

The stranger's voice was fairly deep and vaguely Queens. An older balding man stood above Diego. He was portly, two flannels layered under a puffy jacket, a thick gold band on his left ring finger, and what looked to be a tattoo peeking out of his sleeve.

“Kid, I didn’t mean to scare you, you throw yourself into traffic often?” he asked as Diego tried to scramble back. “Hey, kid, are you okay?”

Diego knew he must look insane. His dark blue uniform pants had a damp stain on the ass and near his knees from sitting on the wet ground, his sweater vest was torn from a fence during his get away and he was sure the white collar must be stained. And Ben’s worn hoodie wet with sweat and rain. Not to mention the fact that it was entirely too cold for him to not be wearing a coat.

“I’-I… ok-kay” Diego forced out. He pulled against the man's grip, scrambling to his feet when he let go.

“Where’s your parents?”

“I don’t- I’ not!” Diego stuttered out frantically. Father would murder him if some stranger returned him to the Academy at two am. That or make him  _ train _ for a long time. His heart pulled at the thought of Mom sitting on her bench, embroidering flowers all the while not knowing he’s run away.

“Oh, kid! Don’t cry on me now,” Diego backed further away wiping at his face. “I’m Al Riccio. And you?”

Father told them never to talk to people because they would say something stupid. But did it really matter? The Academy was falling apart anyways. Klaus would be fearless and speak up.

“My-my name is Diego and I’m n-n-not sure what to do.” Diego said thinking about mom’s face when he gets his words out. Diego also realized he was shaking even though it wasn’t that cold. He silently cursed his body for being weak.

“It’s alright, can get you home ‘fore it’s too late.” Al said.  _ Too late _ , it was too late to save Ben and it was too late to get Klaus out of his drug haze and it was too late to unburn bridges with Luther. Everything was too fucking late.

“I’m not going back!” Diego screamed. The few people on the street late at night stared at him like a spectacle. No, no, no. He hated people watching him and challenging his every move. Backing up frantically, Diego’s back hit the corner store’s window and sliding down to the pavement when his knees gave out.

“Hey, kid. ‘s okay, there’s a youth shelter not far ‘rom here. How’s that sound?” Al asked softly, crouching in front of Diego. His whole body told him to go home and not to follow this strange man but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was holding Ben’s lifeless body as Luther ran towards them.

Shakily, Diego rose to his feet. The Al guy gave him an encouraging half smile.

“It’s about six blocks north of ‘ere and I know some of the people there, they’ll be able to get you in I’m sure, kid.” Al said in a calm tone as if Diego’s life didn’t ride on this. As if Diego wasn’t going to die if he went back home. Maybe not today, but it wouldn’t be long before they all got picked off. One by one.

The hard edge of a knife handle tucked into his pants gave him a tiny bit of security. He had trained for the unexpected. He had trained for this.

````

The lady in the shelter office looked him up and down judging him with her eyes so he did the same. 

She was about the same height as Al and Mom would say she needed a round meal. He could faintly smell cigarettes and her fingers were smoke stained. Her hair stayed solid like a hat as she looked back and forth for things on her desk. Fake pearls, sloppy lipstick, and permanent frown lines finished her pretentious, aging woman form. She didn’t look unkind, but she also didn’t look especially kind either so he figured his best bet was to stay quiet.

“What’s your name?” she asked, shuffling through papers on the desk Diego and Al stood in front of.

“Diego.” he answered quietly. Her eyes cut up at him.

“Full name.” she said. That was a problem. 

Legally his name was Number Two Hargreeves. But he couldn’t just say that. Ben and Klaus and him had made up fake names when they were little, pretending they were other people with cool jobs that lived in exotic places like London or Detroit.

“Diego Riker.” he said softly. The lady nodded and wrote something down on her papers.

“Well, Diego Riker, lets go in the back and get you cleaned up.” she turned and unlocked a door behind her, waving for Al and Diego to follow into a small room with three other numbered doors. “We don’t have a working shower right now but you can wash your face and hands in the sink.” she pointed to a deep laundry sink in the corner shoved between a few old battered cabinets.

“Yes ma’am.” Diego said softly. Al and the lady started talking about how many beds were filled and how long he’d be able to stay as Diego pushed up his sleeves. Behind him the lady gasped like she’d been stabbed. Getting stabbed was pretty surprising, Diego would know.

“That monster will not stay here! I will not put my other youths in danger, Al!” the woman screamed, pointing a nicotine stained finger at him. Diego turned to face the two adults. Eyes darting around the room Diego didn’t see any danger, certainly not a ‘monster.’

“Brenda, what are you talkin’ ‘bout? He’s just a boy-” Al started. Boy? But Diego was the only boy? Diego was the only boy. His stomach sank to his feet.

“He is not just a boy, he is a freak of nature!” she hissed. “And bet you he killed his mother in birth, that’s how that rich bastard got ahold of him!” Diego heard a door creak open revealing three boys about his age peeking out to watch. His cheeks colored at the audience. Then paled when he realized. His tattoo was on full display. His Umbrella Academy tattoo.

Diego hated crying but the tears welled up and flowed over before he could even think about stopping them. All his blood felt welled up in his feet, making him suddenly lightheaded and nauseous.

“I ca-can’t go ba-back!” Diego couldn’t go back to the endless training, he couldn’t go back to a house without Ben, he couldn’t go back to never being good enough. He roughly pulled his sleeve down over the tattoo, digging his nails into the dark fabric of Ben’s hoodie. 

Time seemed to slow, stumbling backwards, his gaze stayed locked on the woman’s snear. His back hit the edge of the sink. Another rush of nausea flooded through him and he fought to swallow it down. Lurching around, Diego's whole body was gripped by another wave of sickness, stomach acid burning in his mouth and sinuses.

“You won’t,” Al said evenly, eyes fiercely aimed at the woman. He slowly walked over to Diego as if nearing a hurt dog, gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder to guide him away from the sink. The woman was still screaming about abominations and murder as she followed them across the room. Al almost had them to the door back to the office when she got in his face and hissed out.

“Why didn’t you stay there with all the other freaks, huh? Why’d you have to come darken my doorstep?” her eyes seemed red with anger and her teeth looked sharp and the bit of her spit that hit his skin felt like acid.

“M-m bro-brother's dead.” Diego whispered, leaning into Al, away from the woman.

“And? We’ve all got dead people, you think you’re special?” she screamed.

Diego’s breath hitched and seemed to get stuck in his chest. Mind spinning and turning like Mom kneading bread. Thoughts filled with Ben’s cold face.

Vaguely, he knew Al had pulled him from the shelter and was slowly walking down the street. With someone warm pressed close, their arm around him, he could almost pretend Mom was walking him to bed after a long round of  _ training _ . almost imagine all the times Ben and him would press shoulder to shoulder in the backseat of Father’s car after a bloody mission. Almost convince his mind that Klaus and him were bundled up in blankets passing a blunt back and forth after a  _ very long _ day. Almost.

“Hey, kid. We’re at my gym.” Al seemed a little awkward. “There’s some spare clothes and you can take a shower, crash on the cot in the boiler room for tonight”

Diego realized his body must have gone rigid when Al stumbled over his words to assure him it was his choice.

“You don’t got to if you don’t want to, just don’t wanna see you out on the streets is all.” Al said, loosening his hold and backing away a bit.

“Thank you.” Diego whispered hoarsely. He felt so impossibly alone.

````

Later, clean and half asleep on the musty cot, Diego’s whole body felt cold like never before. A cold that blankets couldn’t begin to fight. As if he had carved his insides out. He wondered if he looked like Ben had, but the thought made him feel sick again. Wrapping Ben’s hoodie more tightly, rocking himself gently back and forth, the old cot creaking in protest.

````

Waking up in a dark boiler room at six am would make a person rethink all the stupid choices they’d made the night before, Diego was certain of it. The guy from last night, Al, was lingering at the door as if unsure whether or not to wake Diego.

“Hey kid, you awake?” Al loudly whispered when he saw movement. It reminded Diego of when Klaus and him would stage whisper back and forth to rile up Luther. It reminded him of the way Luther would remind him how to say words so he wouldn’t look like an idiot in front of the press.

“Yes sir,” Diego said. Sitting up, a cold draft of air made Diego shiver, pulling Ben’s hoodie tighter, not that it did anything. He hurried to pull his shoes on, but they weren’t where he’d left them. A spike of fear shot through his chest, toes curling in his socks as he ducked to look under the cot.

“Oh, I’m sorry kid,” Al hurried to explain. “They were wet so I took ‘em upstairs to dry out by the radiator. Didn’t figure you’d be up so early.”

“We’re up and ready by five thirty everyday,” Diego said faintly. Standing on the cold concrete, Diego tugged the cuffs of the jacket over his chilled hands.

“Oh,” Al seemed fazed and a little confused, adults’ normally were when they asked about the Academy. “Well you must be ready for breakfast by now, I’ve got instant oatmeal?”

Diego nodded softly, padding across the small room to follow Al out into the heart of the gym. Al led him up a squeaky flight of stairs and into an office overlooking the boxing gym. It smelled less like sweaty gymnastic pads and rubber than below.

He stood awkwardly as Al measured some oats and water into a bowl, sticking it in a dingy microwave sat next to Al’s desk. Al motioned for him to sit in the stained, overstuffed chair shoved into the corner.

“I just wanna clear some things up, ‘kay?” he asked, sitting down behind the desk looking like a cheap version of Pogo. Diego nodded. “You’re one of the Umbrella Academy kids, right?” nod again. “So what’s your real name?”

Diego dug his thumb nail into the skin between the forefinger and thumb wishing desperately he didn’t have to talk right now.

“Number Two Hargreeves.” Diego said softly. “But we all have normal names too, like Allison and Ben-” his throat seized up. He hadn’t said Ben’s name in almost a week.

“Then why the number?” Al asked, face pinched with worry, brow furrowed, eyes wide. Not unlike when Klaus realized all the new ghosts around the house were because of his siblings. They all knew Ben was the most haunted.

“I’m not really sure,” Diego confessed. “but Father only uses our numbers and won’t let us use each other’s name when he’s around.”

Al looked like he was getting ready to say something when the microwave beeped. Diego’s gaze shot over to it. Al got up, taking the bowl from the microwave with a ratty dish towel laying nearby, giving it a few good stirs with a plastic spoon before handing it all to Diego. He walked around his desk to sit down again as Diego settled the bowl in his lap.

“Sorry I don’t have any sugar,” Al said as Diego took a small spoonful.

“We’re not allowed sugar anyways,” Diego said offhandedly, taking another small bite. “Only time we have any is when Mom makes pasta sauce. She says it makes it less bitter, ‘course it doesn’t really matter ‘cause we only have pasta after a mission and none of us really care what it tastes like, just wanna eat some-” Diego cut himself off suddenly. He’d been rambling, Father hated unnecessary words. “Sorry.” he said quietly, staring down at the oatmeal.

“It’s alright, but umn,” Al paused clearly not knowing what to say, “but who’s your Mom? I thought you all had different mothers?” Al looked guilty for asking, looking away to fiddle with something on his desk.

“We used to have nannies when we were little, but Father built Grace to be our Mom.” Mom was built because none of the nannies would stay around long, not that Diego remembered almost any of them.

“Built?”

“Yeah, she’s not human, and Luther always says she doesn’t have real feelings but I think he’s just jealous he’s not her favorite. Mom says she doesn’t have a favorite but you can’t not have one when there’s seven of us, so.” he could imagine how proud she’d be that he hadn’t stuttered once!

“I thought there were only six?” Al asked, rubbing a hand over his balding head.

“We have another sister, Vanya, but she doesn’t have any abilities so she’s not really part of the Academy. I mean, she plays the violin really well, but she doesn’t train with us so it doesn’t really count.”

Al nodded like he understood but he still looked so confused. They sat in silence, Al staring off into space and Diego eating slowly. His feet were still cold. The office had wooden flooring but his socks didn’t help too much. Curling and uncurling his toes to get blood moving, Diego stared down and tried not to think about anything.

“How long do ‘ou plan on being away from home?” Al asked suddenly. Diego’s head shot up.

“I’m not going back.” he said firmly.

“But you’re Mother and Father must be worried about you, not to mention your siblings.” Al tried gently, so gently it sounded like a question. The older man didn’t look too sure.

“My Father doesn’t care, two of my brother’s are dead, another one left a few days ago on a drug binge, Luther switches between blaming himself and me for what happened to Ben, Allison can’t even look at me, and Vanya already had plans to leave before everything went to shit so no, I’m not going home.” Diego said firmly. He was surprised he’d managed not to stutter.

None of it mattered, everything was for nothing. That house was nothing but a shell to hold all of it’s rotting insides trapped behind brick and plaster walls. But plaster couldn’t fix everything. You put a hole in the wall wrestling with Luther? Plaster. You get Ben killed on a routine mission? Plaster doesn’t fix shit then.

“Oh, I…” Al seemed unsure what he should say, what he should do. “You can stay here, in the boiler room as long as you need, just help with some of the cleaning up around the gym and be back before closing.” he offered.

“You don’t have to offer me something you don’t want to do,” Diego said, pushing the last of the oatmeal around the bowl.

“It’s not-” Al took a deep breath, rubbing over his head again. “You seem like a good kid and I wanna give you a chance to make something out’a yourself. If someone hadn’t done the same for me I sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting ‘ere.”

Diego nodded slowly, thinking over the offer. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go or anything to lose for that matter.

“Okay,” he said softly. Then in a small voice, “Can I have my shoes back?”

Al laughed a little, wiping a hand over his face.

“Yeah, kid. They’re downstairs,”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please drop a comment about anything! I love hearing from all of you!!
> 
> Also, who got the pun in the title???


End file.
